For whom the bell tolls
by Swindle
Summary: Based on the old cartoon. A girl seeks to avenge the death of a loved one. Her target Oroku Saki. Tort
1. Chapter 1

Notes, Disclaimers, etc: I don't own the TMNT or Shredder or anyone else in this story, aside from my original character. And she's only in here to have a villain. I'm not fond of Ocs. I hope I'm forgiven for using one .''

My first story submitted for public approval. I hope it doesn't suck.

Oroku Saki welcomed the shadows that enveloped his body, claiming him. He took refuge there, melting into the blackness with ease, making a silent escape into the night. His confident stride carried him swiftly through the complex maze that was the city's system of back alleyways. Despite his injuries and exhaustion, he betrayed no weaknesses.

He had again been beaten by a foursome of mutated reptiles. At this point in the game, his pride had suffered far more than his body. Frustration built inside of him, turning into rage. Rage which he unleashed upon whoever happened to be convenient. The two victims had been Bebop and Rocksteady as of late. The scientist turned mutant fly, Baxter had been on the receiving end before that.

When he spoke with Krang, he was always quick to point the accusing finger at those under him for his failure. He would never admit to that ego maniacal, bodiless dictator that it was his lack of skill or planning that caused the situation to go awry. To himself, Shredder was able to admit a clear view of the situation. Certain things were assuredly the fault of bumbling minions, however, the ultimate responsibility of the actions of those under him was the fault of the commander. His fault. And there were several instances where he had personally screwed up.

In his own mind, he was willing to accept responsibility for his failure and that was all that mattered to him. He would lie to Krang and scold his minions with a clear conscious. The minions had screwed up after all, and it didn't matter if their punishment was for that specific error or not. As for Krang…well he most certainly did not feel like he owed him any respect.

Their defeat this time was a painful one. He had managed to take down Michelangelo and Raphael himself. He had almost defeated Leonardo when Raphael managed to recover enough to rejoin the fight. At this point, he had been the only one left standing. Concentrating all effort on their last opponent, victory had been assured for the turtles.

One rib was fractured, causing a sharp pain to flow through him with every step. It wasn't unbearable, but it registered a level above annoyance. A deep gash was cut into the underside of his arm where he had been unable to avoid the attack of Raphael's sai.

He had torn off a strip of his cape to make a quick bandage. It was soaked with blood but he hadn't lost enough for it to be dangerous. All in all the wounds were nothing more than reminders of his failure. More frustration and humiliation assaulted him at the thought of reporting the outcome of tonight's fight to Krang.

"Hey boss, wait up!" Shredder had to force himself not to wince at the sheer stupidity of his followers.

"Shut up you idiot." He hissed to Rocksteady. It hardly mattered that he was moving with a ninja's skill through the back of the city. Rocksteady and Bebop didn't even know how to spell stealth, much less implement it.

"But, I don't feel so good." Rocksteady managed to complain in a harsh whisper this time.

Bebop looked to his friend in concern. During the fight, Leo's sword had struck a hard blow, cutting through Rocksteady's tough armored skin and into his mid section, leaving a terrible gash. Shredder had sacrificed the remainder of his cape for his minion's bandage. Even after dressing the wound himself Shredder was silently concerned that the rhino would not be able to make it back home. He was losing a significant amount of blood as he walked. If not for the bandage, it was very likely that Rocksteady's intestines would have forced themselves out through the wound.

"I can't do anything for you here." Shredder said in an aggravated growl. "So stop your complaining and let's get back to our temporary headquarters so I can treat you properly.

"How much longer until we get there?" Rocksteady spoke again as they began to move.

"Several hours if you two continue to drag your feet." Shredder snapped, his annoyance growing.

It became apparent to Shredder how bad the wound was really affecting Rocksteady when he did fall silent. He stole another glance at the two from the corner of his eye. Rocksteady had resigned to look at the ground while keeping a light grip on his side.

Suddenly Shredder stopped, holding an arm out to halt his followers as well.

"Huh….why're we stopping?" Bebop questioned.

"Because someone's following us." Shredder stated as if it were obvious. He didn't bother looking around into the darkness. Instead he listened. 

Whoever they were, they were fairly skilled to be able to conceal themselves until now. The attack came subtly. Shredder picked up the sound of bells. They echoed off the walls of the buildings and resonated. It was impossible to tell from what direction the sound was originating.

Bebop and Rocksteady were affected first. Their animal ability gave them a finer tuned sense of hearing. Both half animals mutants groaned in protest, covering their ears. 

"What…what's goin' on?" Bebop asked, disoriented. He backed up, smacking into a wall. The two animals were quickly starting to panic as the intensity of the sound grew.

Shredder suppressed a groan and did his best to find the source of the attack. His ears were covered by his helmet and it helped to muffle the sound from reaching him, but not by much.

He forced himself to stay focused. In the background, Bebop and Rocksteady managed to walk into each other and fall to the ground. Rocksteady gave a protesting groan of pain and clutched his side, which began bleeding anew.

Shredder stood, seemingly unaffected. Sickness and disorientation were assaulting him, but he hid it well. The first attack came from behind. He whirled, raising an armored forearm to block the attack. The weapons clattered to the ground just as the attacker leapt down from the rooftops.

A faint outline of his opponent was all he needed. The form in front of him lashed out to kick him in the face. A second before the attack could be completed, Shredder took hold of the foot and used the attacker's momentum against him swinging in a wide arc. He released him and the attacker continued his journey through the air, slamming hard into a brick wall. The darkness covered the dark red stain left behind as the dead man fell to the ground.

They seemed to rain down upon them now. Bebop stood, disoriented, but trying to fight. He ran for one attacker, trying to grab them and run them into the wall. The attacker leapt over the clumsy attempt, then kicked Bebop, letting him crash into the wall in their stead.

"Ow!" Bebop protested, trying to get his bearings.

The noise increased and Shredder was finding it difficult to stay oriented. Two attacked him at once. He threw his arms out to either side to block the swords coming at him. One attacker tried to take advantage of what he perceived to be an unguarded moment and slice his sword into Shredder's unprotected stomach.

Shredder rolled backwards, taking hold of both attacker's arms, bringing all three of them to the ground. The third attacker rushed forward for another attempt. Shredder aimed both captured arms upwards, leaving the third impaled on his comrade's swords.

Shredder flipped himself into a standing position, ignoring the pain in his ribs, then grabbed the two original attackers, banging their heads together. They dropped, unconscious.

He turned, performing a low sweeping kick. Someone who had thought to attack him from behind found themselves sprawled out across the ground.

Suddenly the symphony swelled to higher levels and his attack faltered. Shredder could not suppress the cry as he fell to all fours. Disorientation overcame his warrior instincts for a moment and he forgot what he was doing. He felt like he was going to be sick. His head swam. Then a terrible fire burned through his side. He cried out again, holding his now broken rib and sank lower to the ground. The intensity of the sound continued to increase. His side flared up with the unbearable pain again and he was felled at last. He landed on the ground with a hard thud, before the hilt of a sword impacted with his skull and he fell unconscious. 


	2. Chapter 2

When he opened his eyes, he was met with a haze of dull colors. Directly in front of him, a mass of brown, a glimpse of blue at the edge of his vision, black beneath him. Pain, still somewhat deadened by sleep, throbbed in his temples. His first assumption was that his current condition was the result of being terribly drunk the night before. If only he could fall asleep again, drift away from reality and let the pain fade into dreams. He tried to imagine himself floating, weightless. He was fading from the waking world; his awareness of his surroundings started to fade, the pain started to subdue, he was disconnecting from his very sense of self... He faded almost completely.

Then an annoying feeling rose from somewhere in the back of his mind. He tried to ignore it, but it was persistent. It prevented him from fading entirely, and gradually began to wake him. Keeping his eyes closed began to become an effort. He was suddenly aware of a damp chill that had settled over him, making him shiver. No longer able to ignore this feeling that had seized him, he surrendered and returned to the waking world. He rolled over and hoisted himself up from the cold ground. The earlier haze that had invaded his vision he had attributed to disorientation from being drunk. Now he realized that it was an early morning fog so thick that it blanketed the streets. It was begining to dissapate now, rays of early morning sun penetrated the fog casting an almost holy light on the dirty city.

As the fog lifted, so did the fog that had been clouding his mind. The events of the previous night returned, although as he thought them through he realized that it was far from a complete story his mind assembled. He remembered being attacked by unknown ninja, attempting to fight them, then a horrible sound...after that it was impossible to recall anything else. There was something important that he was missing and for a long moment, he stayed where he was, trying to figure out what was nagging him so badly.

Rocksteady...

His friend had been injuried the night before...after the battle with the turtles. Where was he now? Bebop began to search the allyway and pondered over what he didn't find. No bodies, no splashes of blood on the ground or walls, not even an overturned trash can. Only his uncouncious body would have alerted a passerby that anything out of the ordinary had occured. 

Panic was begining to take hold of his mind as he started towards the back of the alley. It subdued almost as soon as it began when he noticed a large pair of grey legs sticking out from behind a dumpster. As he drew closer, the panic hit again, twice as hard. Hurridly he made it to his friend's side and knelt beside him. The makeshift bandage of Shredder's cape was darkened by blood. The panic threatened to take hold of him completely as he searched, without knowing what he was supposed to be looking for, for some sign that Rocksteady was still alive. After a long moment the fact that Rocksteady's chest was slowly rising and falling registered and the panic lessened slightly. It was obvious that he was badly wounded and needed care that was beyond Bebop's ability to give him.

Feeling helpless and frozen by indecision he tried to think of what to do. He feared Rocksteady's life was trickling away. Bebop had little experience in treating injured people. There was always someone else to administer aid. Was he not supposed to move him? But if not, how would he get him help? Should he kidnap a doctor and drag him here? But that would mean leaving Rocksteady alone and half dead in an alley. Bebop despertly wanted someone else to be there. Someone to take charge of the situation.

That thought finally brought to his attention what else was wrong. Shredder was no where to be seen. Bebop started to search the alley again. He wanted the solution to his problem to be as simple as finding his boss, waking him up, and letting him take charge. He examined the length of the alley throughly and concluded that Shredder was not here. If he had been captured or had simply abandoned them, there was no way to tell. The end result was the same either way. Rocksteady's life was in his hands.

He picked Rocksteady up as carefully as he could manage and started towards home. Blood soaked into his clothes from the wound, making him almost sick with worry. New York was a city alive with people day and night alike. Althought Bebop no longer had the cover of darkness to move under, Shredder's route had still accounted for the city's schedule. He should be able to make it home without meeting anyone along the way.  
What he would do once he got there...he had no idea, but at least he was doing something.


	3. Chapter 3

For long moments after he awoke he felt suspended in a strange kind of limbo. His head pounded in time with his heart beat, nausea assaulted him, and for some reason he couldn't see a damn thing. He felt disoriented as he never had before. Years of training were on his side however, even if this method was never his strongest point. He lapsed into meditation, managing to relax, despite his position and pain and give his situation a detached going over.

He was blind because there was some sort of heavy cloth wrapped around his head, over his eyes. His armor as well as his shirt seemed to have been removed. Chains bound his wrists and ankles, suspending him from the ceiling and keeping his movements severely restricted. A fire burned through him with every breath and the position his body had been forced into stretch his wounded left side, compounding the pain. His fractured ribs had likely turned into broken ribs now. The bandage had been left on his cut arm, although now it stuck there with the dried blood.

When he finally managed to sort out his situation he was not rewarded with all that much information. He now knew that he was captured. Chained and blindfolded. It was frustrating, not having any idea who was holding him or why. In his mind he replayed the battle that preluded his capture. All of the attackers had been masked, and there was nothing in their fighting styles that gave him a clue to their identities. The list of enemies he had made over the years might have been a long one, but he felt that he should be able to remember someone who had gone through such considerable trouble to abduct him.

He spent the time that crawled by wrestling with his pain and nausea. He managed to get both under control by the time he heard a door opening. The footfalls of at least three moved through the door. He tried to place their position in the room by sound alone when he was distracted by pain. One of the three had delivered a punch to his wounded side. He gave a strangled cry then clenched his teeth together to keep from gratifying their efforts further. The pressure didn't remove itself. Rather it intensified, slowly but steadily. Whoever had punched him was pressing their fist against the broken ribs.

"Awake?" Chirped a girl who couldn't have been more than twenty or so years old.

"Who are you?" He demanded, his voice surprisingly strong after recovering from the pain. "Why have you captured me?" 

"Matsuda Tanaka." She said, her voice lowering dangerously. "Does that name mean anything to you?"

Saki searched his memory, trying to recall a name in that in all honesty didn't have any ring of familiarity to him.

"No." He admitted. He didn't sound very concerned over his inability to recall the name, despite his disadvantage. For a moment he was answered with silence as the girl apparently tried to process the information. Then it seemed to sink in. She screamed, the sound full of frustration and anger. She hit him in the stomach hard enough to drive the air from his lungs.

"My brother!" She followed her information with another strike across his jaw, this time with some kind of metal object. Nothing was broken, but Saki spat blood in the aftermath of the attack.

"What about him?" He demanded, irritated.

"You killed him." She stated, seeming to come down from her angry vengeance and managing some composure. "You killed him, and I'm his revenge. You're in for a long stay here, Saki the Shredder. You will suffer long before you die."

Xxx

For the next several hours Shredder's only companions were his pain and the thoughts running through his mind. Every trick he could think of was employed in escape attempts. He even invented a few new ones. Unfortunately, as his captors had been trained in the same arts he, everything he tried had been anticipated.

Eventually he heard the approach of two sets of footsteps echoing faintly across the concrete floor. They did not bother to speak. Simply stuck a needle in his neck and drained the contents of the syringe into his bloodstream. He fought whatever drug they injected him with, but it was a losing battle. His mind was pulled under it's influence into unconsciousness.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

When he woke his restraints had been removed and the cloth over his eyes was missing. Blinding light assaulted him when he opened his eyes. He squeezed them shut again an instant later and threw his arm up for further protection. The light persisted, penetrating his eyelids with a harsh glow. Saki tried opening his eyes for brief intervals at a time. Eventually he made himself accustom to the intense light, if only enough to keep his eyes open for short spans of time. The cloth that had blinded him earlier would have been more than welcome now. 

After the arduous task of opening his eyes was finally complete his next move was to get himself off of the floor. A quick inspection of his injured midsection brought to his attention two broken ribs and a large bruise. The purple/black collection of broken blood vessels spread out almost reaching his chest and down past his stomach. He took three long slow breaths to steady himself. Then he carefully pushed himself up from the ground, using his arms to support as much of his weight as they could. Pain exploded through his body when he moved. He ignored it and pushed on. Standing up felt like a hard won victory.

Forcing himself to see past the blinding overhead light, he started to examine his new surroundings. The room was small. It's only furnishings were a dirty toilet and sink. The walls were stained and peeling with age, but he suspected that they were sturdy enough. The only thing in the room that didn't seem to suffer from years of neglect was it's single door. Composed of shiny new reinforced steel with no apparent locks or handles. 

His first thought was of weapons. The floor was bare and the heavy porcelain top had been removed from the toilet. Still he was certain that there was something he could do to dismantle the toilet or sink and find a suitable weapon amidst it's parts. Of course the room was likely rigged with security cameras. He wouldn't be able to hide any such weapon. Nor would he be able to ambush anyone who might try to enter the room.

Saki went to the sink and turned the cold tap on, curious to see if it would actually work. At first only a dirty brown liquid emerged. He allowed the tap to run for several minutes. Eventually the rust and dirt started to dilute until it finally became something that resembled water. He gave it a few more minutes before cupping some in his hands to drink. It smelled bad and tasted worse, but he was hardly in a position to complain. After splashing a generous amount on his face he turned his attention to his wounds.

He was unable to treat his ribs without anything to bind them, so he was forced to ignore the most grievous of his injures and do what he could for the minor ones. He cleaned his various cuts and scratches before turning his attention to his arm where his cape bound the gash from Raphael's sai. He attempted to remove it so he could clean the gash and found it stuck tight with dried blood. By softening it with water he was able to coax tiny bits of the cloth away from his skin but the process was painfully slow. Finally he decided that it wasn't worth the effort and left it alone. 

Standing for so long caused his body to ache with protest. Inwardly cursing his weakness he sat down facing the door, resting his back against the wall. While his body was idle his mind was hard at work. There had to be a way out of this mess and he intended to find it. Hours passed and Saki fell into a kind of trance, somewhere between sleep and meditation.

Quite suddenly he was jerked awake and his blood ran cold. Bells chimed softly from an unknown location in the room. He forced himself to stand, determined to fight. No one came for him. Instead the sound began to steadily pick up intensity. Pain exploded in his skull and he staggered. At first he used a hand to keep himself steady against the wall. When the sound increased both hands were pressed tightly against his ears in an attempt to block the horrible noise. He fell to one knee and dully registered the pain from his broken ribs. When people finally did come for him his head was spinning so much from the noise and the pain that he had only the vaguest notion of what was happening as they took hold of his arms and lead him out of the cell.


	4. Chapter 4

Reality was pain and noise such as he had never experienced. Reality was a profound sense of confusion and frustration when his body did not obey simple commands, like curl into a fetal position and jam his hands against his ears. Reality was hell.

Beyond all of this existed a world so far away that it almost seemed like a dream. It had a floor and walls, both of which were swerving back and forth, in and out and around each other in a way that made nausea grip him with a fierce and unrelenting hand. He tried to fight it, and for a time succeeded, but it was impossible to combat for long. He was only vaguely aware of it when they stopped moving and he vomited all over the floor as it swung back and forth below him.

He had no idea how much time had elapsed when he finally started to become aware of his surroundings again. And it was only after several long moments that he was even able to comprehend why he had come back to himself. The noise had stopped, leaving nothing more than a horrendous ringing in his ears, a terrible headache, and no way to tell up from down. His body was trembling and damp with sweat. Breath was drawn in unsteady gasps. He decided to chance opening his eyes only to discover that the room still refused to be still and had acquired a multitude of black dots as dancing partners. The room's dance was not nearly as hectic as it had been previously and Saki was convinced that given a few moments it would bring itself under control. Unfortunately it never had the chance. He was thrown into darkness as the same heavy cloth from yesterday was tied around his head.

Realizations came to him one at a time. He was chained in the same position as yesterday. There was a horrible taste in his mouth. There were voices nearby. The bad taste was because he had emptied the contents of his stomach all over the floor. He knew these voices.

He spat in an attempt to rid himself of the vomit's aftertaste and tried to listen in on the conversation. Unfortunately it was impossible for him to discern any of the words being exchanged past the ringing in his ears. Then reality was brought sharply into focus by freezing cold as icy water was tossed onto his chained form. His body jerked involuntarily and pain flared through his side with the movement.

"My brother." The girl from yesterday. He recognized the voice clearly now. She addressed him casually, as if they were simply picking up the thread of some minor topic they had abandoned earlier. "He was a skilled ninja. Head of the Wind clan. When the foot turned to a life of crime, under your leadership, he felt it was his duty to try and stop you."

Ah yes, that he remembered. The chaotic period of time following his ascension where power struggles had been common place. Some had assumed that the Foot's recent internal conflict would leave the clan vulnerable to attack. Others had been Foot themselves. Motivated by some crazed notion of justice and honor they banned together, intent on removing Shredder from his newfound seat of power. They sought aid from outside clans sympathetic to their cause. Wind had been chief among them.

"Now do you remember him? Or…at least what he fought for?" His captor queried.

The leader of the Wind ninja clan he remembered very well. His skills had been remarkable. A fierce battle had taken place between the leaders of Wind and Foot. Shredder had claimed victory, ending the would be hero's life by slicing his neck open with his wrist blades. In the moment of forced reflection he recalled the doubts that had plagued him about his ability to win the fight, fear that he would be killed that night…that everything he worked so hard to take through scheming and blood would be lost before he had a chance to enjoy any of it. He remembered the elation coupled with relief as his opponent fell before his blades.

"No." Shredder replied. "I suppose he just isn't worth remembering."

He resolved then to die before gratifying his captor's efforts. At least she didn't scream this time. He didn't think that he could withstand another sonic assault. Instead he felt her hand brush against his arm and untie the bandage around the sai wound. There was a slight tug on the cloth and he realized that she must be wrapping her hand around the excess. Then she yanked hard, pulling the bit of his cape away in one violent motion. He felt his blood flow from the reopened wound and her hot breath by his ear whispering in a voice full of dark and terrible promise.

"I'll make you remember him."

She fingered the edge of the wound, ran her long nail along it's length, then suddenly shoved her fingers into the wound, twisting and scratching at the meat of his arm until she had forced herself in up to her knuckles. He shuddered with the pain and clenched his jaw tight to rein in the screams so desperate to burst from him. She wriggled her fingers and dug her nails as deep as she could manage. His contorted face reflected the agony he felt, but he stubbornly refused to vocalize his pain.

She hissed in anger when she found that she could not break his resolve and pulled her fingers free, wiping the blood on his pants. For a long, uneasy moment Saki heard the people on the other side of the blindfold whispering to one another. Nervousness gripped him as he wondered what they had planned next.

Someone got a firm grip on the index finger of his right hand before he felt cold metal against the tip of his finger. If he had to guess he would suppose it was an oversized needle of some sort. It was wedged between his skin and nail almost gently, then quickly shoved into his flesh at an angle, penetrating deep into his finger. The shock of the pain was enough to finally tear a sharp yelp of pain from him. When another of the needles touched against his middle finger he steeled himself for what was to come. He bit his tongue to keep from screaming again as the metal point drove into his flesh. His captors worked in silence on each one of his fingers. Despite his efforts to appear unaffected, his body jerked and writhed as each new shard of metal penetrated his skin.

"Pathetic." His voice was thick and raspy with pain but still managed to hold a tone of condescending mockery. "You can't...defeat me in battle. If it wasn't for your tricks. ...wouldn't have caught me at all." 

"And you're pathetic for being caught by my tricks." She reasoned calmly, flicking the metal shard in his right index finger. "And...I have even more of my 'pathetic' tricks to show you."

For a moment it seemed as if nothing happened. Then he realized that he just hadn't been able to feel it with his fingers throbbing and flushed with heat. The temperature of the metal shards embedded in his fingers was rising rapidly. Instinct was forcing his body to try and jerk away from the source of the heat, stubbornly ignoring the rational part of his brain that knew such a thing was impossible.

His captor chuckled in amusement as his body jerked and writhed with pain. Humiliation accompanied the agony with rage following close behind. He wanted to be free of this, he wanted to be ripping this bitch apart with his bare hands. She would pay for every one of the torments she inflicted on him.

His train of thought was abruptly interrupted by a new source of pain as something cut across his back. Saki heard a crack that had to be from a whip before it lashed against his back again. It brought white hot agony sudden and sharp, cutting into his flesh again and again. When it finally stopped he had lost count of how many lashes he had received. He could feel the blood flow down his back and onto the floor, feel the throbbing agony from his numerous wounds.

He hung limp in his chains, his head bowed in exhaustion, his body trembling from the pain. He screamed as sudden pain flared through his hands again. The needles in his fingers were ripped away without warning. Moments later he heard the chains clanking before his feet were freed, then his hands were unchained. He fell the short distance to the ground, gasping for breath as the impact knocked the wind from his lungs and send an unbearable fire through his midsection. 

"Don't try anything funny." His tormenter spoke, punctuating her point by threateningly letting a few notes escape from her bells. The fall had knocked his blindfold slightly askew. Lifting his head seemed far too great an effort, so he instead let his eyes scan the floor with slightly blurred vision.

What he saw made his eyes widen and his heart beat faster. Lying on the floor by a large pair of black boots was a long shard of metal, it's end coated with blood. Only one…it had been dropped by mistake.

Rough hands grabbed him under each arm and hauled him to his feet. Saki gasped in pain, closing his eyes against it for a moment before fixing the position of the needle again. As his captors started to drag him back towards his cell he suddenly tore himself free of their grasp. Hope instilled new strength into him as he spun to face his captors.

They lunged for him. Saki leapt backwards, falling to one knee with the effort for a moment before leaping up and punching one of the incoming attackers in the face. He felt the very satisfying crunch of bone under his fist. The man howled in pain as blood started to gush from his broken nose. His success made the first attacker pause a moment. He took advantage of the opportunity, putting all of his strength into his strike. He aimed for the nose again. This time his flat palm struck the bottom of the man's nose, driving the bone into his brain.

He had no time to celebrate his victory. The bells began their agonizing symphony, driving him to his knees. They continued as new goons entered the room and took him back to his prison.

For a long while he lay on the floor of his cell, reveling in the silence and trying to guard himself against the blinding lights. After awhile he forced himself to move, making his way toward the sink. He indulged in a drink before collapsing heavily into a sitting position.

As far as he could tell, no one had noticed. When he fell to his knees during his attack he had quickly picked the needle up from the floor. The only hiding place he could think of at the time had been inside the sai wound in his arm. He left it there, fearful of surveillance. It may not be much…but it was a weapon.


End file.
